


All Nighter

by captaincuppy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Concerned Mother Katsuki & Cool Dad Nikiforov, Confessions, Crack Treated Seriously, Dysfuncional Family Dynamics, M/M, Underage Drinking, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincuppy/pseuds/captaincuppy
Summary: Viktor and Yuuri weren't expecting guests in the middle of the night. Otabek and Yuri couldn't care less.





	

Viktor presses his lips to Yuuri’s nape, soft and worshiping. His arm around Yuuri’s waist pulls him closer, naked legs intertwined under the duvet. He caresses his stomach with tender fingertips, knowing damn well that it tickles. His every move is calculated; he knows what to do to earn him what he needs: Yuuri’s snuffled chuckle and the tiny, shivering jump.

“Stop,” Yuuri mumbles, his voice unable to hide his grin.

Viktor replies with obviously fake snoring. A sharp elbow pokes him between the ribs, drilling into him.

“Aren’t you satisfied for tonight?” Yuuri fidgets to turn around and face Viktor in the dark. He slides his palm up Viktor’s neck, thumb caressing the sharp line of his jaw. “I was hoping to tire you to the bone. Didn’t work?”

Viktor tilts his head to kiss Yuuri’s thumb, eyelashes casting deeper, needle-like shadows on his cheeks.

“Darling, don’t you know?” he purrs, “I can’t get enough of you.”

Yuuri snorts and nuzzles Viktor’s cheek to hide from his gaze. Strangely, the less he can see of him, the more vulnerable he feels; Viktor uses his touch instead of his eyes to see him more clearly, fingertips wandering all over his skin, mapping and unfolding curiously.

“And I can’t get enough sleep, so shut it.”

“A charmer like you doesn’t need beauty sleep.”

“Why don’t _you_ get some then?”

Viktor gasps dramatically, moving back to clench his own chest. Yuuri slides his palm over his hand and, taking advantage of Viktor’s ridiculously opened mouth, takes his lower lip between his teeth.

“You’re the monster I created,” Viktor whines, fingers stroking Yuuri’s hair as he draws back.

“Yep. Your fault. Completely.”

“I can feel my heart breaking.”

Yuuri gently pushes Viktor onto his back and takes his other hand to curl it around himself. Viktor quivers under him as he rests his head on his chest, two hearts beating and throbbing in his ear.

“Sounds pretty normal to me,” Yuuri whispers and throws a leg over Viktor’s waist. “Beating just as fast as always.”

Viktor kisses the top of his head.

“Only when you’re close enough to hear it.”

“Mmh.”

Yuuri yawns into Viktor’s chest, finally closing his eyes. Viktor’s muscles ease under him: the slow, circling caresses on Yuuri’s shoulder falter as he sighs. The warmth pulsing from under their skin embraces them like another layer of duvet, safe and smooth. Yuuri’s head rises in sync with Viktor’s deepening breaths, and finally, the real world fades away.

  
*  


Yuuri awakes with a jump. As he opens his eyes, he can’t see anything around him. It’s still pitch black. His heart races in his chest but Viktor’s almost naked body is still under him, giving him something to hold onto.

His last memory of the dream is a loud, high pitched noise - he remembers dropping a plate that shattered on the ground or something. Yuuri swallows and closes his eyes again, ready to be cradled back to another dream - and then the noise rings again, louder this time.

It’s the doorbell.

Yuuri pushes himself up, staring at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 2:34 AM.

Viktor mumbles and shifts next to him, sitting up at the same time as Makkachin starts barking outside the bedroom, scratching the door.

Viktor keeps muttering in Russian, and Yuuri whispers:

“Someone’s at the door.”

“Why?” Viktor manages to slur, voice thick with sleep yet still too loud in the dull darkness. “What? It’s...”

“Yeah.” Yuuri’s throat dries as he throws the blanket off his legs and scrambles to his feet.

Viktor grabs his wrist, suddenly wide awake, irises flaring up.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“One of us has to check it out. They’ll wake everyone of the street.”

“You’re not going alone. It’s the middle of the night.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to answer, but the doorbell rings again, long-drawn and utterly infuriating. Makkachin is going crazy in the hall, whining and thumping as she’s springing around.

Viktor and Yuuri look at each other, and they move in sync. Viktor throws the blanket to Yuuri to cover himself, which Yuuri does - even though it feels like he’s a wife whose nudity needs to protected. They step out of the bedroom at the same time, Viktor only leaving his side to get something to defend himself with.

Makkachin barks at Yuuri and runs to him. Yuuri leans down to scratch her ear and whisper:

“It’s okay, sweetie. We know. You did well, but shh.”

Viktor creeps back with something round and shiny in hand. A frying pan. Seeing Yuuri’s expression, Viktor shrugs, giving him an offended side glare.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone for lo-”

The person in front of the flat starts banging on the door. Viktor straightens and steps in front of Yuuri.

“Mr and Mrs Plisetsky?” somebody screams and they both freeze. The voice sounds familiar, but somehow distorted. “It’s Ota-Otabek. Altin. I, uh, I have your son. With me. Not like that. Nice place!”

Yuuri’s jaw drops. Viktor leaps to the door and presses his forehead over the peephole. He turns back to Yuuri, expression dull.

He unlocks the door right away, opening it wide so Yuuri can see Otabek Altin in the stumbling flesh, carrying a seemingly unconscious Yuri Plisetsky on his shoulder.

Viktor slams the door, and Yuuri squeaks:

“What happened?!”

“They’re just drunk.” Viktor replies, suspiciously cheerful and collected. He reopens the door and gestures towards the newcomers like they’re ordinary guests. “I’ll go get you a blanket. You two can sleep on the-”

Otabek stumbles to the couch and plops down with Yuri on top of him. Viktor clears his throat.

“-couch. Yes.”

Otabek growls, and Yuri suddenly moves, hitting him on the shoulder. After Otabek understands where his place is and keeps quiet, Yuri draws his legs up into a fetal position and snuggles under Otabek’s chin, mumbling something incoherently.

Yuuri feels his head begin to spin. Makkachin leaves his side, leaping to the couch, licking Yuri’s palm. Yuuri feels even more betrayed.

Viktor comes back with a blanket, shoving it on the two boys and looking up at Yuuri. Again, his face says it all: the corner of Viktor’s mouth twitches.

“They’re fine.”

“Fine?!” Yuuri shrieks, voice higher than usual. “They’re _wasted_!”

There are two synchronised growls coming from the couch. Yuuri’s face is growing redder with each second, blood boiling in his veins.

“It’s not a big deal, baby.” Viktor steps in front of him, hugging his neck and pressing their foreheads together. He wears that softly curled smile that never failed to melt Yuuri’s heart before. It fails now. “It happens. They’re young.”

“Exactly!”

“Yurio can take care of himself. It’s not the first time-”

“He’s sixteen! How the hell can you-”

“Yuuri, Yuuri.” Viktor kisses the tip of his nose, his cheek, his temple. He leaves his lips there, moving on his skin as he whispers: “I understand, but there’s no need to get so worked up. We’ll talk about this in the morning. Now we all need some rest. Come back to bed with me... Please?”

Yuuri’s chest is practically heaving as he stares at the couch over Viktor’s shoulder. Otabek and Yuri are both huddled up under the blanket, limbs hanging over the floor, sound asleep like nothing is wrong in the world.

“Yuuri...”

Yuuri tears himself out of Viktor’s embrace, bare feet slapping on the floor. He shoves the duvet to him before turning towards the kitchen.

“I’ll get them some water and painkillers,” he spits, avoiding eye contact. “You go back to bed.”

  
  
*  


Yuuri flops back on the mattress. Immediately, he hears shuffling and feels a warm palm on his shoulder, fingers caressing his skin soothingly.

“Baby?”

Yuuri doesn’t reply. Viktor crawls a bit closer, slowly and somewhat hesitantly. Yuuri scoffs.

“Can I hold you?”

“Hold someone who doesn’t care about being woken up in the middle of the night by wasted teenagers.”

“Honey, you need to calm down. It’s not our responsibility.”

“Apparently it is,” Yuuri snaps and turns around to face Viktor, who draws his hand back. “Because they are here, out of all places. And I feel like - correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel like there’s a _reason_ why.”

Viktor swallows dry.

“Um-”

“How many times?”

“I don’t know what-”

“How. Many. Times.”

“I-I don’t know for sure. Three? Four? Five tops, I swear.”

Yuuri’s voice is low and threateningly cold.

“Five.”

“Yuuri, he _is_ young, but he’s also old enough to decide if he wants to drink, and you can’t really stop him, so isn’t it better that he has a place where he knows he can go to spend the night? Where he’s safe?”

Yuuri’s tongue feels heavy and bitter in his mouth. Yes, he’s well aware that they’re bickering like parents, but no, he can’t stop himself. He’s _so_ close to use the “we’re supposed to be a team” card.

“I can’t believe you’re so irresponsible.”

Viktor hums.

“I wasn’t better than him when I was his age.” he confesses slowly. “Honestly, I was probably worse.”

“We’re not talking about you. We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Yurio and why he did it, and how I’m gonna strangle Otabek first thing in the morning for this.”

Out of the blue, Viktor starts chuckling. He hides his face behind his palms and attempts to muffle the sound by sucking his lips in, but the whole bed is shaking.

“What’s so funny?” Yuuri snaps, even though he feels his body cooling down. Viktor’s glee washes over him, drawing his own lips into a faint smirk. “What the hell is so funny?”

“You’re just-” Viktor tries to speak, voice squeaking.

“Viktor, come on. Look at me. Answer me.” At this point, Yuuri doesn’t care about hiding his own grin. He grips Viktor’s left wrist, pulling it so he can see his eyes. Viktor’s glace flashes at him, deep and adoring. Yuuri’s face warms up for a completely different reason now. “ _What_.”

Viktor is basically purring.

“I love it when you’re fierce.”

Yuuri tries to frown. He knows there’s no point in fighting anymore; his mind and body gave up, spirited away by Viktor’s strange attraction that always hits him the hardest when he least expects it. Yuuri mumbles something under his breath and forgets his pride as he curls under Viktor’s jaw, nuzzling his chest.

Viktor hold him close again and starts rubbing slow, tender circles on his back. Yuuri closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and grumbles:

“I’m gonna kill them anyway.”

Viktor huffs into his hair.

“Okay.”

“First thing in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“With my bare hands.”

“That’s fine.”

“And you’re gonna help me get rid of the bodies.”

Viktor’s words come out muffled from nuzzling deeper into Yuuri’s hair.

“Anything for you, pretty boy."

  
*  


When Yuuri wakes up, he finds himself cuddling with Makkachin instead of Viktor, mouth filled with curly fur. He tries to blink the dreamless sleep away, glancing at the clock. It’s past nine.

He reaches out for his glasses, putting them on. Makkachin whines and wags her tail, staring at Yuuri with shiny, begging eyes. Yuuri rubs her belly and blows raspberries on her head until she’s satisfied, whimpering cheerfully.

Yuuri hears voices coming from the living room. He frowns at first, then last night’s incident comes back to him.

Yuuri kicks off the duvet, covering poor Makkachin and scrambles to his feet. He puts on the first pair of pants he finds and a shirt to cover himself, and aims for the bedroom door.

With every step he takes, his confidence wanes. He still feels irritation under his skin, stinging like needles, but something else crawls there too, telling him to take it easy. Viktor is right; it’s not necessarily their job to scold, yet alone lecture them for what they’ve done. Viktor was actually acting responsible when offering Yurio to crash his place whenever he needs it, and Yuuri is - well - nothing but an unwanted newcomer in Yurio’s life. The mere fact that he’s Viktor’s fiancé gives him no right to treat Yurio like a kid. He’s just a fellow competitor. A very young, very hotheaded, and very, _very_ stubborn fellow competitor and rinkmate.

Sometimes he entertains himself with the idea of reaching the soon-to-be-tolerated friend level with Yurio.

Yuuri sighs and opens the door. He tries to move as quietly as humanly possible, creeping towards the voices. He can’t understand anything since, in his absence, they are speaking in Russian. The things that Yuuri can still overhear are the tones; Viktor’s is compassionable and peppy, while Otabek’s is quiet and respectful. Yurio mostly communicates with slurred grunts. No dictionary needed for that.

Yuuri steps into the living room, parquetry creaking under his soles. He clears his throat, seeing them all sitting in the dining room: Otabek and Yurio on the wooden chairs, Viktor on the counter in front of them. Three pairs of eyes stare at Yuuri at the same time.

Viktor’s face brightens up immediately.

“Good morning, Yuuri!”

He hops down, grabbing Yuuri’s favorite mug and handing it to him. Yuuri blinks, taking the mug filled with freshly brewed coffee. He smiles up at Viktor, grateful and still sleepy, and steals an innocent kiss. Yurio basically snarls, headbutting the tabletop and regretting it immediately.

“Morning,” Yuuri mumbles.

When he turns around, he’s surprised to see Otabek standing up, glaring at him, right hand reached out. His hair is a mess, curls standing everywhere, last night’s clothes wrinkled and slightly reeking of smoke.

“Good morning,” Otabek says, hand still waiting for Yuuri’s. “Please forgive us for the trouble we caused you. We had no right to disturb you in the middle of the night, probably scaring you too. We sincerely apologise.”

“Um,” Yuuri says, still trying to process Otabek’s words in the first five minutes of being awake. His instinct tells him to accept Otabek’s hand, so he does; Otabek’s facial expression doesn’t change a bit, but his grip is firm and thankful. “Forget it. I’m glad that you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

“How wonderful,” Viktor chirps and steps closer to Yuuri. He holds him close, arm around his hip, leaning forward to rest his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. “See, Yurio? I told you that Yuuri is not angry with you.”

“Like I care,” Yuri grunts, pulling his hair. “Can’t you just shut up? I think I’m dying.”

“Oh no,” Yuuri coos, sipping from the mug. “You poor thing.”

“Say it to my face, pig!”

Yuuri decides to ignore the insult for now. He gently touches Otabek’s shoulder, making him tear his worried glance away from Yurio.

“Why don’t you two take a shower? You can go first. We can wash your own clothes, too, if you’d like. I highly doubt that you guys want to do anything else other than laying around today, anyway."

The flashing realisation in Otabek’s eyes is crystal clear, and Yuuri is beyond grateful for it. He nods immediately.

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Don’t mention it. Viktor, would you please find some clothes and towels for them?”

Viktor looks like he’s having the time of his life. He’s more than happy to rush and do everything and anything Yuuri says, especially if it doesn’t include yelling. Otabek disappears behind the bathroom door too, leaving Yuuri and Yuri all alone.

The air freezes, almost crackling with invisible static.

Yuuri takes another sip of his coffee before grabbing the chair Otabek had previously occupied and pulling it out for himself. He makes sure the legs graze over the floor with the loudest, most maddening and ear piercing screech possible.

Yuri grunts louder than ever, pushing himself up.

“Why are you doing this?”

Yuuri keeps his cool. He sits down, crossing his legs.

“Doing what exactly?” He queries, voice low.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Do you really think I’m that stupid? I don’t need your fucking lectures.”

“I’m not going to lecture you.”

“Yeah, sure. You should see your face. It’s creeping me out.”

“You must be imagining things.” Yuuri says softly, giving Yurio a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Or is it your guilt talking?”

“I’m not sorry like him,” Yuri spits, pointing at the bathroom door with his thumb. The water in the shower is whispering faintly, accompanied by the pipes rattling behind the walls. “I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re Yurio. You take no responsibility. You answer to no one. You don’t care about anything and anyone... Which means you don’t care about that boy in our bathroom either, right? He has nothing to do with yesterday.”

Yuri narrows his eyes and pulls his upper lip higher as a grimace.

“What the fuck are you trying to make me say?”

“Nothing. We’re just having a conversation like civilised men.”

Yuri grabs him by his collar, shoving him closer. His eyes are flaming up behind his ruffled hair, teeth gritted.

“I’m done with this conversation,” he hisses right into his face. “Got it?”

“Of course. I understand that you’re afraid to tell me.”

Yuri snorts.

“Afraid.”

Before Yuuri could reply, Viktor comes back with hands full of clothes, voice as joyful as ever.

“Guess what, Yurio, I found one of your shirts! I must have accidentally put it in my bag last time we were at the-” Viktor clips his words, staring at the ridiculous sculpture pose they’re stuck in. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” they say at the same time, not breaking eye contact.

“Alright,” Viktor squeaks meekly, putting the clothes and the towel on the table. “I’m going to… I’m leaving you to it?”

“You might as well,” Yuuri says, and Yurio finally lets him go with a firm tug, leaning back on the tabletop.

Yuuri stands up and goes round the counter to put his empty mug in the sink, stroking Viktor’s cheek while he’s there. He catches a glimpse of hazy concern on his face before he kisses him comfortingly. Viktor’s lips go numb against his, exhaling through his nose with a tiny whimper.

The bathroom door opens and Otabek steps out. Yuuri notices Yuri peeking up at him, eyeing him up and down: his hair is still wet, the drops leaving dark lines on the borrowed shirt. He’s holding a towel in his hand.

“Where can I put this?” he asks.

“Anywhere you’d like, I’ll wash that later.”

Otabek nods and spreads it out on the chair. He looks at Yuri, realising he’s being stared at. Yuuri bites his lower lip to not react to the pale rose tint spreading on Yuri’s cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” Otabek asks, pulling the chair closer to Yuri’s.

“Fine.” The sharp edge of his voice disappears. “You?”

“Me too.”

“Good.”

“Yes. Can we talk about yesterday?”

Hearing Otabek’s use of words, Yuuri gives his fiancé a meaningful look. Viktor blinks at him, shaking his head slightly and twitching.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yuri hisses, tilting his head towards the pair to warn Otabek. He doesn’t seem to care.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they know.”

“Know what?” Viktor chimes in, innocent and totally lost. Yuuri can’t contain himself anymore.

“They got together, Viktor!”

“Yes I know, they went out for drinks.”

“No, like. You know.” Yuuri feels his cheeks warming up. “Like us.”

Yuri springs up, kicking the chair over.

“Shut up! It’s none of your business!”

Viktor’s eyes widen in surprise and delight. He slaps his cheeks with his palms:

“Ooooh!”

“We only kissed once. Before we even got drunk.” Otabek states the facts quickly. Yuri glares at him as if he wanted to slice his throat.

“They don’t need to know!”

“They were worried.”

“Viktor couldn’t have been able to figure it out even if it happened right in front of his eyes!”

“That’s because, since Yuuri was being so cold to me in Hasetsu, I lost faith in my intuition,” Viktor mumbles desperately.

There’s a momentary silence. Then, Yuuri and Yurio start speaking over each other.

“That’s not the point!”

“I told you, I just didn’t remember anything.”

“Can’t you just fucking let things go?”

“I was trying to be subtle later, giving you signs-”

“At least I didn’t grind on him shirtless!”

“-but you didn’t seem to get them so I thought-”

“Stop screaming, my head is killing me!”

“Actually, you’re the only one screaming.”

“Because you won’t stop embarrassing me in front of the guy I like!”

This time, the silence is way longer and deeper. Viktor’s jaw drops, Yuuri gasps softly and takes a quick step back like he was pushed by the invisible force of Yuri’s pure attraction. Yuri’s cheeks are burning, irises dilated. His whole body freezes, unable to move a muscle.

Thirty incredibly awkward seconds later, Otabek breaks the silence:

“It’s not embarrassing.”

Nobody cares to join the conversation. Viktor doesn’t dare, Yuuri doesn’t want to, and Yuri simply can’t. Otabek clears his throat and combs his damp hair back with his fingers.

“I know you like me. That’s why you kissed me.”

Yuri swallows. He gains back the confidence and bravery he had lost in a wink; he straightens his spine and turns on his heels, looking down to meet Otabek’s eyes.

“So what?”

This is the first time Otabek looks confused. He frowns, lips pressed together for a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“What now?” Yuri barks, voice slightly softer than usual. He scratches the table with his nails, unaware of his moves.

“Oh. I thought it was obvious.”

Otabek looks around, trying to find allies - with no avail. Everyone is staring at him with their breaths held, and apparently, the unwanted spotlight can perplex him too. Otabek glances back at Yuri, who needs to gather all his mental and physical strength to not move an inch.

Just like Yuuri, honestly; anticipation makes both of their hearts race. Yuuri welcomes this alien feeling of being on this side of an awkward, emotional situation. He knows all too well what it’s like to be exposed, unravelled, vulnerable. And while Yuuri got used to it through waves of anxiety and self-doubt, Yurio has been nothing but prideful and reckless.

Yuuri can’t stop looking at them, but he starts fumbling for Viktor’s hand blindly, squeezing his fingers. Something inside of him tells him not to look; to let them figure it out for themselves; to turn his head leave the room and pull Viktor with him. But he can’t.

Otabek’s voice is reserved and collected.

“I thought it was obvious that we’re dating now.”

A muffled noise comes out of Viktor and Yuuri’s throats at the same time. Their fingers entwine around each other’s even tighter, eyes shining and breaths hitching.

Yuri seems to awaken suddenly, like he’d forgotten that they’re in the room too. He brushes the softness off his face, eyes glowing with victorious pomposity. He turns to them, teeth showing.

“Show’s over. Can you finally leave us alone?! I’m not talking about this in front of a fucking audience.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oooo boy I didn't plan a multichapter story right now but guess what it happened
> 
> Why did it happen.
> 
> Do you even want it to happen...?
> 
> Find me on tumblr as [[captaincuppy]](http://captaincuppy.tumblr.com/)  
> Thank my beta for correcting the mistakes my Hungarian ass left in there: [[eldritch-activist]](http://eldritch-activist.tumblr.com/)  
> Thank you very much for reading! Let me love you. ♥  
> 


End file.
